


A hundred thousand ways of choosing

by nyasty_boy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Gavin Free-centric, M/M, Multi, Sex, Violence, pre OT6 - Freeform, pre crew, stripper!gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyasty_boy/pseuds/nyasty_boy
Summary: A hundred thousand ways of choosingWho the hell is out and who's in trouble?Maybe I'm too subtle- Gold - Sir Sly





	A hundred thousand ways of choosing

**Author's Note:**

> yikes! this is the longest thing ive written and i have things i gotta do whoops!!
> 
> its weird and barely edited im sorry lol, also theres random sex scattered around, mainly in michael and ryan's scenes
> 
> clusterfuck au is being thought abt but not rlly acted on... maybe later?

Gavin’s been in the city of Los Santos for little over three months before he’s already back into the life of crime. He came here for a fresh start, to forget the pain that the UK - or Europe in general, to be honest - had caused him. He’s more of an instigator this time around, though, he doesn't work day and night finding out secrets and blackmailing people like he used to.

Instead, he dances.

Well,  _ on the surface _ . He dances every weeknight, in a grimy little strip club a few blocks away from Del Perro. His boss is barely around, joining the patrons most nights at the bar and chatting women up, or he's handling more illicit dealings elsewhere in the city. Gavin will dance and, if he feels it’s necessary, he’ll pickpocket and he’ll collect secrets. The dancing pays for his rent, the pickpocketing pays for food and the secrets pay for his life.

He’s walking there now, a small bag over his shoulder containing his outfit for the night. There’s a slight skip in his step, he’d heard over the radio that morning when he got home that there’d been a shootout near the docks between two rival gangs, either over territory or drugs or something equally as bad. Gavin knows one of the gangs, one his boss had worked with, and he’s hoping that his boss might have been an  _ innocent bystander _ and maybe  _ caught in the crossfire _ . When he notices there’s a new car in the parking lot out front, a blinding shade of pink, his heart rate speeds up.

A few of the other dancers are already making their way in for their shifts, and they all seem just as excited at the prospect of a new boss. Gavin runs a hand through his hair and looks down at his feet nervously before following the last person in, the door knocking his bag slightly as it swings shut with a quiet and ominous  _ click _ . Everyone’s formed a small crowd in the main room, surrounding the stage and the two people stood on it. Gavin pushes his way through impatiently, whispering soft ‘ _ sorry _ ’s until he reaches the front, eyes going wide and breath rushing out of him.

Gavin’s far from local, and he doesn't really keep tabs on kingpins and gang warfares, but he knows who these people are. 

_ Ramsey and Patillo. _

A relatively new duo, but they’re taking Los Santos by storm. Robbing stores and burning rubber in drag races and taking the cops out for near daily joyrides all for sport. They’ve yet to perform a major heist or cause much damage, but Gavin knows it’s only a matter of time.

“Girls, guys, otherwise,” Ramsey grins big and crooked, his arms uncrossing and hands shoving into his suit jacket pockets, pulling out a cigar and an engraved lighter, “it’s nice to meet you all. I'm afraid your boss got into a little,” he shares a look with Patillo, “ _ accident _ , so we’re taking the reins and running things here from now on.” he’s a shorter man, definitely shorter than Patillo, but the way he holds himself and enunciates his words both demand all the attention in the room and make him look like your average gangbanger you’d ignore on the street. 

Gavin peers around at everyone else, they all seem equally as uncomfortable and nervous as he feels, so he takes comfort in that. One of the bartenders is starting to pale, ashen and sweaty.

“I hope we can come to a mutual understanding, if you work hard for me, I’ll work hard for you. Capiche?” Ramsey lights the cigar carefully, “if you need me, or my buddy here, we’ll be in the offices. Go get ready for your shifts.”

Gavin looks around and back to Ramsey, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip before following the other dancers to the dressing rooms.

\--

At first, Gavin keeps the information he finds to himself.

He doesn't know if Ramsey wants it, wants to know the inner workings of the city like his old boss did. Gavin doesn't know if Ramsey wants to run this place as an honest establishment (fat chance of that, crime always soaks into the good things in this city), or if he just doesn't care.

He doesn't tell Ramsey about the new high class vehicle that’s being transferred through the city in a week, or about the drugs shipment that was lost in the storm drains near Vinewood Hills that’s ripe for the taking. Instead, he just does his job and continues to pick pockets.

Gavin decides to change his mind when he hears something he really shouldn’t, from the mouth of Ramsey no less. He’s about to walk into the office and ask for a day off, take some time to have a nice bath and give his feet a rest from those god-awful heels, when he hears Ramsey talking to Patillo.

“--we need to make some more cash, get some ears on the ground before we become sitting ducks in this dump,” Ramsey’s nursing two fingers of whiskey in a crystal tumbler, Gavin knows it’s from the fancy set his last boss left behind, “I don't have a single-fucking-clue where to start in this city.”

“Geoff, we’re doing fine,” Gavin adjusts his view so he can see the larger man where he’s leaning against the desk, “so what if it’s a little rocky at first? We’re still fresh in this city--”

“And we should already fucking  _ own _ it!” Ramsey slams the tumbler down, standing up and sending his chair crashing to the ground, “you remember Austin, we were fucking kings there! We’re fucking struggling in this shithole, the old fuckin’ boss - Daniels, or whatever - he’s doing a lot fucking better and he's at the bottom of the fucking ocean!”

Patillo steps closer to Ramsey, settling a large palm against his cheek and essentially quelling the rage in him, “Geoff, these things take time,” he puts their foreheads together, it’s strange for Gavin to see such a tender act performed by two killers, the knowledge of this is heavy in his gut like a fist, “just wait it out a little longer.”

Gavin decides to come back later; he stands and walks back out to the floor, hips sashaying and mind already flipping through ways to transfer his information.

\--

He starts out with notes. Written on black card with a golden gel pen and always signed with his signature  _ G <3 _ , he leaves them on Ramsey’s desk whenever the room is empty. He makes sure to keep his hood up when he’s in the room, hide his face from where he knows the cameras are placed.

The first one causes the desired effect, a little ruckus and, in the end, success for Ramsey and Patillo and confusion from other gangs.

_ There's a race down on St Rockford Drive, a little birdy told me that there’s gonna be some ‘off schedule construction’ and you should take a left down Lindsey Circus to get around it faster - G <3 _

Gavin leaves other notes along the same lines for a while, little cheats in races and who to buy from and which loan sharks they can buy off easier than others. He does his part to keep his job afloat, always one to save his own skin.

\--

It’s a couple months later when something a little more… serious, turns up.

Gavin’s been hired for a VIP room tonight, and he’s already dancing on the table, eyes closed as he runs his hands along his body to the rhythm of the music. He's dressed in white and gold, he knows what works for him and what doesn't, and he’s a little more scantily clad due to being hired out. The thong hugs his hips nicely, and the boots that go all the way to his mid thigh shine in the low light.

“Ramsey, that bitch,” the one in the centre of the room pipes up at the end of a separate conversation, all eyes are drawn to him and Gavin listens closely, “m’sick of him thinking he can do what he wants, takin’ territory from us…”

There’s a few cheers of agreement, Gavin slows his dancing a little to focus before speeding up when he feels a hand stroking along his leg, moving it away and turning with his back to the group.

“I got some new product from my dealer, some pretty strong shit. I reckon we could pay one of these sluts to spike his drink or somethin’, or we could get him in a… ‘car accident’,” the man smirks, showing a golden canine, before grabbing Gavin’s leg and pulling him down; he follows, if only to prevent himself from bashing his head on the fucking table, “would you do that for us, doll?”

Gavin flutters his lashes, playing coy as he straddles the man and leans in close, settling his hands on the sweat soaked shirt, “mhm, it depends… murder might cost you extra…”

The man laughs out, eyes flicking to his friends before he grabs Gavin’s ass in two large handfuls, squeezing a little too rough and causing Gavin to suck in a breath, “what’s your price then, doll? I could get you a pretty necklace, maybe a night you won’t forget…”

Gavin laughs sweetly, leaning in close to his ear and biting his lobe, hands sliding under the cover of his blazer and into the inner pocket, using his ring and pinkie to carefully grab the small baggie he finds and tuck it into his palm, “well, it’d have to be a pretty good night, and I’ve never had a man deliver that well,” he grips the man’s crotch, carefully manicured nails digging in slightly, causing the man to laugh nervously and his friends to snicker around them, “do you really think you could keep up with me?”

“Of course I could-”

A timer goes off, cutting the man off and causing Gavin to lean back and smirk sharp, “sorry, your time’s up. You’re gonna need to pay  _ much _ more to get more of this…” he stands up quickly, collecting the dollar bills and notes left on the table before walking out, the men laughing behind him. He quickly grabs a robe as he walks, heels creating a muffled clicking sound as he rushes through the back corridors until he reaches the office.

“Do you really think--” Ramsey stops mid-sentence as Gavin pushes his way into the room. He walks straight up to the man, dismissing Patillo’s confused  _ excuse me? _ as he presses the baggie into Ramsey’s hand.

“A new drug on the market, be careful who gets you your drink,” Gavin turns to walk back out before holding up a finger, looking back at Ramsey (who looks a little shell shocked), “Oh! And get your car serviced tomorrow.” Gavin walks out quickly and closes the door behind him, smirking at the muffled  _ what the fuck was that? _

\--

That’s how things go for a while, nearly a year. Gavin gets information and, depending on how urgent it is, he’ll deliver it to Patillo or Ramsey. Then he starts to get information on  _ them _ .

First off; they’re in a relationship. It’s not so obvious from the outside, considering how distant and  _ strictly business _ they seem when outside of a safe place, but Gavin honestly can't believe he didn't suss it out much earlier. They’re so soft and tactile with each other, it’s obviously a pretty on going affair (if Gavin were a little more rude, he’d guess near fifteen years, considering how aged they both look, but the job that is crime can sometimes take it out of you).

Next; they’re actually nice people. One of the girls is groped real rough on the floor and Ramsey goes out there himself after seeing it on the security cameras and knocks a few of the guy’s teeth out. He gives raises and days off to the single moms and the students, and he strikes up an honest to god friendship with all the bartenders. Patillo’s a little more quiet about his kindness, he’ll patrol the VIP rooms and make sure the workers are safe and no one’s being forced into anything. They offer all the staff outs and extra time off and they’re just so  _ generous _ that all the staff begin to grow cautious, think it’s a trick. Some take all the time off they can, others refusing it in case it’s a sign that they’re about to be laid off.

Then they start to slip envelopes into his bag, a few dozen ten dollar bills inside them each time, and while he knows its payment for his ‘services’ to them, and it’s a pretty fair deal, he can't really accept it. If it had been his last boss, sure, he’d take the money and run to the hills with it, but he knows how sweet Ramsey and Patillo are so it becomes a game of Hot Potato, passing the envelope between them without really saying anything about it. 

\--

“Gavin, wait here a sec.”

Gavin’s hand pauses on the door handle, brows raising as he turns around slow and careful. Ramsey’s still in the wheelie chair near the desk and Patillo’s sorting through some papers. He takes a step back into the room.

“Yes?”

“Take a seat, you want a drink?” Ramsey motions to the bottle of Jack Daniels in the cabinet.

Gavin eyes it carefully before nodding slow, “sure.” Ramsey stands and sets his own drink down, opening the cabinet and pouring two fingers into a tumbler, Gavin watches the whole thing carefully, shifts so he can see if anything’s dropped in or if there’s anything lining the glass, “did you need me for something, Ramsey? I’m meant to be on stage soon.”

Ramsey nods and flickers his eyes to him, Gavin watches as he smirks when he notices how hard Gavin’s watching, “you think I’m gonna spike it? Have faith, I’m no sleaze.”

The corner of Gavin’s mouth turns up slightly, and he accepts the glass carefully when it’s held out towards him, “it’s happened far too many times, I don't have the energy to get myself home while I'm off my bollock.”

“I feel like  _ once _ is too many times,” Patillo cuts in, a small grin showing in the way he talks.

“Then you live a very boring life, Patillo.”

“Indeed he does,” Ramsey smirks at Patillo over Gavin’s shoulder, and once again Gavin feels privy to a moment that seems too intimate for a shady strip club in Los Santos; Ramsey seems to snap himself out of it pretty quickly, though, “I was just curious how a scrawny little British kid like you ended up in the US- in  _ Los Santos _ of all places.”

“It’s not too bad here,” Gavin traces the rim of his glass, bringing his legs up under him and leaning his chin on his palm.

Ramsey scoffs, “don't bullshit me, kid,” he takes a large pull from his glass before putting it down, “what’s your story?”

“I’m afraid I can't tell you.”

“Because?”   


“ _ Because _ ,” Gavin sips his drink, the corner of his eye twitching when the burn makes its way down his throat, “my job is to find out other people’s secrets and spread them for a price, not spread my own for free.”

Ramsey nods slow, leaning his elbows on his knees and tilting his upper body forwards; Gavin can see the tattoos that edge along his collarbone, “fair enough, kid. Well, I need to put in a particular request.”

Gavin raises a brow before nodding slow, tilting his head in interest, “depends what it is.”

Patillo walks over and sits next to Ramsey, taking his turn to talk now, “there’s a regular here, Mr Chen. He stole a shit ton of our ordnance, sold it off and spent it all on a pretty little cabin in rural Alaska. We want to steal something from him in return.”

Gavin smirks, his pulse racing a little as he sits up, “skip the foreplay, Patillo, what do you need?”

Ramsey smirks as he sits back and Patillo chuckles softly, taking out a folded photo and sliding it over, it’s an Asian man in his early thirties, maybe late twenties, decked out in fine silks and plenty of jewellery, “see that jade necklace? It’s an heirloom. We want it, and anything else you can get.”

Gavin picks up the photo and scans it carefully, running his thumb nail along the weathered edge, “and I thought you were gonna give me a hard job…”

\--

Gavin’s already in the office the next time they walk in, spinning himself on the chair and swinging a set of motorbike keys on his middle finger. He’s wearing the jade necklace, a pretty little thing with an intricately carved dragon as the centre piece and delicate balls along the string (rather Game of Thrones-esque, Gavin thinks). There’s also a large selection of rings on his fingers and some watches and bracelets along his forearms, as well as an offshore bank account open on the main monitor showing poor Mr Chen’s money currently being drained.

“Holy shit,” is the first thing out of Ramsey’s mouth, then “did you rob a fucking Tiffany’s? I'm surprised i'm not blind from the fucking lense flare.”

Patillo walks over to the monitors and raises his brows, reading the text before looking back to Gavin, “did you fucking empty his accounts?”

Gavin stands with a grin, he’s still in his civvies so he looks more like a pimp than usual, but he doesn't care. It’s worth the awed look on their faces, “that’s Mr Chen’s banks emptying right now, yeah. And,” he walks over to Ramsey, taking off the necklace carefully and putting it around Ramsey’s neck, resting his forearms against his shoulders and dragging his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, “if you think this is shiny, you should see the little number I took from his dick, but, y’know, this is a strip club and not a brothel…” he slides past with a soft laugh, closing the door fully behind him and walking to the dressing rooms.

\--

Gavin first sees him by the bar. He’s obviously pretty fresh off a job, a smear of ash near his temple and a bruise blooming on the edge of his jaw. He can't go over since he's working on the stage, but he can certainly draw his attention. He drops the silk cover that’s over his shoulders, exposing tanned skin that glistens with well placed glitter and sweat from the stuffy room.

Wolf whistles begin to echo around the room, and when he finally catches the man’s eyes he winks and bites his lip, turning and leaning his chest against the pole, pushing his ass out to the audience.

The man’s eyes don't leave him for the rest of the night.

\--

“I don't think I caught your name earlier.”

“I don't think I gave it.”

A few days have gone by, now. The man’s at the bar every night, watching Gavin on the floor or on one of the poles. He never pays for a lap dance or a private room, just watches from across the club with an appreciative look in his eye. Gavin’s sick of it.

“Well,” Gavin huffs, sliding into the free stool next to the man even though he should technically be working, “my name’s Gavin, thought maybe I should introduce myself since you’re becoming a regular n’all…”

The man hums and looks down into his drink, Gavin recognises it as a long island iced tea, “fine. Michael.”

Gavin smiles brightly, fingers dancing along the man’s forearm, nails catching in some of the creases, he knows it isn't the usual leather jacket,  _ Mogar’s _ jacket, but it still makes him pretty hot, “well, Michael, I happened to notice you making moon eyes at me on stage the other day-”

“Was not,” Michael mutters, stubbornly.

“-and I think I'm a pretty generous person, so I’d like to offer you a nice dance over in a booth,” Gavin’s fingers come to a stop on the back of Michael’s hand, carefully prying it off of the glass and turning it over, pressing his index and middle finger against the warm flesh of his palm, “that sound nice?”

Gavin can practically see the cogs turning in Michael’s head as he thinks it through, he slides his fingers a little lower and presses them against his pulse, letting out a soft and sultry laugh at the rabbit fast beat he finds, “nervous?”

“Maybe,” Michael downs the last of his drink before turning to him with a smirk, and Gavin can't help but swoon a little, “but pretty boys have always made me nervous.”

Just as Gavin leans forwards to flirt a little more, maybe have a little grope and see what calibre Michael’s working with, another dancer comes up and pokes his back, “Gav, you gotta get on stage now…”

He nods and waves her away with a huff before turning back to Michael, pressing a gentle kiss against the growing bruise on his jaw, “see you later, Michael…”

\--

Gavin walks into the office with a soft hum, “Ramsey, you know the new demolitions expert, Mogar? Michael Jones.”

Ramsey looks up and raises a brow, glasses balanced precariously on the end of his nose and a book in his hands, “how many times have I told you to call me Geoff, kid?”

“And how many times have I told you I'm not a kid?”

“Touche. Thanks for the info,” Ramsey looks back down to his book, humming, “see if you can get him to join us, make him sweet on you or something; try to avoid another stalker situation, though.”

Gavin laughs and nods, smirking gently, “yeah, I know.”

\--

“Well, well, well, Michael, never expected to see you in here,” Gavin chuckles sweetly as he closes the door of the VIP room behind him, leaning up against it so his body is in full view, “I feel like we should celebrate, maybe there’s snacks in the staff room.”

Michael rolls his eyes and grins a little, humming, “nah, I'm good.”

Gavin pouts as he walks over, kneeling on the booth next to Michael, “well, that’s a shame. I was hoping for a rather quippy,” he pitches his voice low and mocking, failing to hide a grin as he furrows his brows and tilts his head down, “  _ the only snack i'm after is you, gavvy, you’re all I need. _ ”

Michael laughs, full and loud, and Gavin would pay to hear it again, “wow, okay. I'm an idiot, leave me alone about it. Should I just go?” he reaches out and gently slides a hand along Gavin’s jaw, fingers ghosting along his neck before his hand goes into Gavin’s hair, “I mean, since i'm not as quippy as you’d like…”

Gavin sighs out blissfully, leaning into Michael’s hand and shuffling closer, “no, this is fine, i'm happy with a quipless Michael…” he shuffles a little closer, pressing his nose against michael’s cheek and grinning against the soft skin, slowly starting to trail gentle kisses down the fresh canvas, “no bruises? Shame, I would have kissed them better too…”

He can feel how Michael’s chest raises with a soft laugh at that, “oh yeah? How nice of you…”

“I like to think i'm very nice, but you, Michael, are not.”

“No?”

“No,” Gavin swings a leg up and over Michael’s lap, straddling him neatly, “I think you’re mean, really really mean, for making me wait for you, for  _ this _ …” he slides his hands down the expanse of michael’s chest, watching the way his face flushes bright and the graphic tee stretches slightly.

“I'm sorry, Gavvy…” he doesn't  _ sound _ very sorry, but Gavin doesn't really care. He’s more interested in how pretty that blush is and how it’s spreading down his neck.

“You know what else I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re a gentleman,” Gavin slides his hands back up, then down michael’s arms, making his way to his hands and moving them to the soft skin of his thighs, “cause you're sat back all pretty and patient, waiting for permission. A trained dog.”

Michael digs his fingers in a little, moaning low and guttural in his chest, “I'm no gentleman, Gavin…”

“I bet not,” gavin smirks to himself, it’s all going to plan, “I bet you think you’re the most dangerous man around, I bet if we were in your bedroom you’d take me like some two dime whore, leave me bruised and needy the next morning, yeah?”

Michael chokes on his breath slightly, chest hitching as he closes his eyes and imagines it, “fuck, Gavin, holy shit…”

“A dangerous gentleman, then. That’s alright with me, you wanna know why?”

“Why?”

Gavin leans in close, gently biting his earlobe and tugging before whispering a soft  _ I’ve always had a thing for danger, love. _

Michael digs his fingers in a little harder, pulls gavin a little closer and suddenly all gavin can feel is a firm heat between his legs; he gasps and moans so soft and sweet, tilting his head back and rocking into the heat needily before remembering where he is, what he’s meant to be doing, “fuck, fuck, shit, Gavin… holy shit…”

“I bet that sounds good, huh? I bet no one’s ever been able to keep up with you, take you how you need it…” Gavin rocks his hips experimentally, gasping and giggling softly, “wow, that’s a pretty big package there, and all for me?”

Michael nods slow, opening his eyes and smirking up at Gavin as he presses his thumbs against Gavin’s bony hips, “all yours, baby, it’s all for you…”

“Good,” Gavin makes a little figure eight motion with his hips, giggling at the strangled sound Michael makes, “then I guess you wouldn't mind doing some business? Considering it’s all mine, I feel like it could wait a little longer before getting nice and wet…”

“Jesus fuck- what business?” Michael frowns slightly, still flushed and panting, “I'm about to bust a fucking nut in my pants and you wanna talk business!?”

Gavin giggles, hiding his smile a little with his hand, “Michael, no, Michael, it’ll only take a minute!”

“Fine,” he grumbles, moving gavin to the side carefully and standing up, adjusting his pants, “let me get a drink, then. You want one?”   


“Nah,” Gavin lays neatly on his side, humming, “I like to keep a clear head while I work.”

“Fair enough.”

\--

Not too long after that (and by that, I mean two days of marathon sex in michael’s apartment, Jesus Christ), Michael’s working for Ramsey too. He goes out on deals with Patillo, acting as hired muscle as they buy more and more drugs from more and more people, then supply the city’s dealers for pretty good prices.

All in all, things are looking up.

\--

“The Vagabond--”

“The Vagabond’s in town, I know,” Ramsey cuts in, how rude, and rubs his face with both hands, “Michael already told us.” Michael waves from his space on the newest chair in the office, smirking.

“Wow, great,” Gavin puts his hands on his hips, “first you take my ability to think, speak, or walk for a week, then you take my job? Just kill me where I stand, you minge.”

“It’s been common knowledge for a while,” Patillo’s just doing his best to diffuse the situation, Gavin can tell, it’s too early in the week for Michael to be fighting everyone, “don't worry about it, but, yeah. We found out ‘cause he left Geoff a message.”

Gavin raises a brow, taking his seat next to Michael, “damn, Ramsey, making yourself a fan club in Los Santos?”

Ramsey’s mouth downturns slightly, and he sits back slowly, “well… we don't know if it’s good or bad. He just fucking pinned a note to my door with a knife saying ‘meeting soon’, what a creepy fuck.” he slides said note over to Gavin to look at, a large hole in the middle of the paper.

“Oh Christ…” Gavin picks it up carefully, raising a brow, “that’s… spooky.”

“It’s more than fucking spooky!” Ramsey’s voice is shrill, eyes wide as he throws his hands up, “what the fuck am I gonna do if he wants to kill me?!”

“Uh, die?” Michael suggests, rather helpfully, with a shrug, “it’s all you can do. The Vagabond’s batshit nuts.”

“Oh great, yeah, thanks, fuckface.”

“Hey, I'm just doing my job!”

“Your job is to buy drugs and blow shit up, not be a smart ass--”

Patillo gently rubs Gavin’s shoulder, humming soft, “you can go, man. The club’s opening in twenty. I'll handle the children.”

Gavin nods and stands with a sigh, smirking up at him as he gently brushes his slim fingers along the hand on his shoulder, “what would we do without an adult like you around, Patillo?”

“Die,” he mimics, grinning soft and fond at gavin.

\--

Gavin knows who he is immediately. 

It doesn't really matter that he isn't wearing his mask, or that beaten up leather jacket. Gavin just  _ knows _ . Also, there’s a smear of black face paint on the bottom of his jaw. 

Gavin decides to keep his distance for now.

\--

“How’s the floor going?” Patillo asks. It’s the beginning of winter, now. November is just ending and the christmas decorations are up in droves; Gavin’s particularly miserable.

Christmas season has never been easy, neglectful parents leaving him alone during the family holiday and his only friend he’s ever found solace in during the season, as far as Gavin knows, is six feet under. Ramsey has noticed his worsening mood time and time again, and never hesitates to offer time off. Gavin’s thankful, he always is, but the work helps to keep his mind off of everything.

“Crowded, gross and stuffy,” Gavin drawls, draping himself on a chair, knees hooked over the arm, “took my break early just to get a breather. But the money’s always good during winter.”

“True,” Patillo smiles fondly over at him, and Gavin smiles sweetly in return, “well, feel free to head home early if it’s too much, there’s plenty of girls tonight and i'm sure Geoff would gladly take your place on the pole.”

Gavin laughs, “wouldn't that be a sight!”

“It would indeed.”

Gavin swings his legs idly, looking up at the ceiling and counting the little bumps in the pattern. It’s nice to listen to Patillo humming and the scratch of his pen on the paper, but Gavin’s had a question burning in the back of his mind for the past month or so, “hey, Patillo?”

He just hums in response.

“How did you know you loved Ramsey?”

There’s a long pause, and Gavin recognises the sound of Patillo putting down his pen. Patillo lets out a long sigh before leaning back in his chair, Gavin tilts his head back to watch him upside down, “wow, uh… I guess i knew when he told me he was into me?”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, yeah,” Patillo runs a hand through his hair, crossing his legs at the ankle, “we were friends for so long before we started dating, and it wasn't really much of a change to slip into that  _ something more _ territory, you know?” he laughs softly to himself, “we’d already shared a bed in some shitty motel in the middle of nowhere more times than i can count, and we hung out outside of work so much… it was just natural for us to say ‘hey, we’re still friends, but we like to smooch a little and say we love each other too’.”

“That’s… oddly sweet…” Gavin’s struggling to find the right words, “would you have asked him out if he never asked you? Or would you have been happy just as friends?”

“We probably would have ended up together somehow, whether it was then or a year or ten years down the road. I would have taken a while cause i'm fuckin’ clueless to everything half the time,” they both laugh and Gavin sits up when he begins to get a little light headed, instead turning to face Patillo, “but, as dumb as it sounds, i feel like it was fate that we ended up together.”

“You’re rotting my teeth, Patillo.”

“You asked!”

\--

“I’ve never seen another soul in here on Christmas day, what’s your story?”

The Vagabond just watches him. Gavin knows he should feel threatened or worried, maybe watch his tongue a little more, but he can't find it in himself to care; he sighs before continuing to talk, “you want a refill on that drink? It’s on the house if you have a conversation with me, i'm bored out of my mind.”

The Vagabond still says nothing, blue eyes piercing as he drags them up and down Gavin’s body. The Brit sighs again and picks up the glass, the ice inside half melted, “I’ll be right back…”

Gavin carries the glass to the bar and goes behind it, taking down a bottle of Jack Daniels and a can of coke, carefully pouring the drink. He’s the only member of staff in today apart from Ramsey and Patillo, all the others with family and friends celebrating the holidays. Some of the other dancers had invited him out, but he felt like going clubbing would feel too much like work.

He walks back over with the drink and sets it down carefully in front of the Vagabond, deciding to push his luck and sit across from the man, “so, you talk at all, pretty boy?”

Silence.

“Wow, a real Prince Charming, arent you? I guess i'll have to stick to yes and no questions, but maybe that’s too difficult for you.” Gavin smirks, crossing one leg over the other and pressing his fingertips together, elbows on the table. The Vagabond smirks, but he’s obviously pretty dedicated to this whole  _ silence is golden _ spiel he’s got going on, Gavin thinks.

“Okay… You married?” the Vagabond shakes his head, “good, i hate cheaters.”

“Why would that make me a cheater?”

“He  _ talks! _ ” Gavin crows, grinning big and teasing.

“Answer my question,” the Vagabond’s voice is low and soft, dulcet tones greatly offsetting the low bass of the music playing now.

“Well, strip clubs arent really where the most faithful hang out.”

“True.”

“What’s your name?” Gavin probes, leaning forwards with a soft smile, “mine’s Gavin-”

“I know your name.” he’s obviously aiming for unnerving, but it doesn't really get to Gavin.

Gavin sits back, trading his coy attitude for something a little more truthful, “well, what would you say if i said i already know yours, too?” he stands up carefully and walks over to the bar, going behind it and grabbing a glass, “i mean, i was just trying to be polite, but if you’re gonna be so bloody rude…”

The Vagabond’s  expression immediately darkens; he stands and follows Gavin swiftly, slamming a palm down on the counter, “you don't know shit, and even if you do, it wouldn't be hard to get rid of you.”

Gavin pours himself a drink, not even flinching when he turns around and finds himself face to face with the killer, “I know more than you think,  _ Vagabond _ \--” the Vagabond’s hand finds its way to Gavin’s neck, slamming him up against the wall and causing the glass to fall from Gavin’s hand, shattering on the floor, “oh, kinky, but you gotta pay extra to treat me like this and i’d rather do it in a VIP room, y’know?”

“Who do you work for?” Vagabond sneers, “FIB? A gang? Who owns this place, Daniels? Do you work for him?” 

Gavin quickly realises that the Vagabond doesn't know Ramsey is literally in the next room, probably watching through the cameras, “yeah, hon, so what? He doesn't know you’re coming here, i haven't told him a thing.”

“How do i know that?”

“Hm, i dunno…” Gavin trails his finger tips along the vagabond’s hand where its tight around his neck, then touching along his stubbly jaw, “you’re just gonna have to trust me. But don't be scared,” Gavin brushes his thumb along Vagabond’s adam’s apple, “i don't bite, unless you want me to.”

\--

Gavin starts seeing the Vagabond around a lot, after that.

He sees him in the street, watching from the mouth of an alley, or at the edge of a crowd in the city. He’s at the club every night, just watching Gavin work.

Gavin can't say he doesn't like it.

\--

“This guy worked with Daniels a couple years back, i'm not sure how well you might know him,” Patillo starts, “we need some paperwork from his house, it’s pretty damning evidence against some senator that likes to diddle kids, or something like that. We want to sell that information.”

“Sounds good,” Gavin takes the photo and studies it closely before sliding it into his phone case, “anything else?”

“Stay safe,” he settles a hand on Gavin’s bicep, his voice is oddly tender, “i… Geoff and i care about you, we don't wanna see this job go south.”

Gavin sighs out softly before pressing a gentle kiss to Patillo’s cheek, the scratch of his beard different to what he’s used to against his bottom lip, “don't worry about me, love,” he grins fondly when he steps back, watching the blush spread on Patillo’s cheeks, “I’ll be just fine.”

\--

Gavin David Free is so fucking far from fine.

‘Fine’ is on a completely different continent to Gavin, at the moment. It’s meant to be his day off, as well. 

The job had gone perfectly, getting in and out of the target’s house was easier than most of the jobs he does, but the man obviously hadn’t drank enough to be shitfaced, or to at least remember who he took home.

“ _ FREE! _ ” the man bellows, stalking the apartment -  _ Gavin’s _ apartment - and turning everything over in a desperate search for the man, “get out here!”

Life really has it out for him.

Gavin’s currently in his bathroom, curled up in the tub with the curtain pulled and his hands clamped vice-tight over his mouth, trying desperately to hide his panicked breathing and pitiful whines from the man searching for him. He runs through his options.

A - he could climb out the window and find somewhere else to stay for the night. That would mean going around Los Santos, in the middle of the night, in a vest and some crappy sweatpants. Probably more dangerous than the man in his apartment right now.

B - he could grab the lid to the toilet tank like in all the movies he’s seen and try to attack the man. The man would most likely be able to stop him and probably smash his skull with the lid, bad idea ( _ can the lid even come off the tank?  _ Gavin thinks).

C - he could run out there and get his phone from the kitchen counter to call Ramsey or Patillo, or even Michael, and ask for a favour. The guy would probably catch him and beat the shit out of him.

Gavin decides to go with the last, because it’s the safest and who doesn't like to push their luck?

He drags himself out of the tub carefully, bare feet padding on the cold tiles. He walks over to the door and opens it carefully, peeking out and looking around. The apartment is dark, the moon shining through a select few of the windows and lighting up sections of the hall ominously. He can still hear the man trashing the living room.

Gavin opens the door a little wider, just enough to slide his body out, and crouches down low once he's out. He sticks to the shadows as he does his best to stay quiet, rushing around a corner and into the kitchen. His phone is on the main dining table, if he can just get a little closer-

There's a hand on the back of his vest, dragging him up and throwing him against a wall with a bruising force and causing a rush of air to leave his chest, “you little fucking bitch, where are those papers?”

Gavin goes to rush past, but the large hand on his chest prevents him from getting any further. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, skin paling as the adrenaline begins to pump through his body. He swings his leg up and kicks between the guy’s legs, dodging out of the way of the first fist that comes for him but getting punched in the side of the head by the second one. He lets out a shout, falling to the side and taking his chance to try and escape past the man. 

Gavin barges his shoulder against the man’s side and leaps past, but the man manages to wrap a hand around Gavin’s ankle and pull him to the ground. His head bounces off the side of the table, the edge digging into his forehead and tearing a deep gash into the skin on his way down. The blood is almost instantly pouring into his eye, the metallic scent making bile rise in the back of his throat.

“Come here, you little bitch,” the man snarls, pulling Gavin closer by his ankle and threading his other hand in Gavin’s hair, “you thought you could get away with it, but you’re not as fucking sneaky as you think.” 

Gavin struggles as much as he can, scratching at the man’s hand and kicking his legs out wildly, “get the fuck off!” he manages to kick the man square in the head, earning him his freedom from the man’s grip. He rushes to his feet and stumbles to the table, grabbing his phone and running around to the other side. Gavin puts his phone in his pocket before grabbing a knife from the knife block, blunt and dull in the light. The man stands up and walks over, eyeing Gavin and the knife with a predatory smirk.

“Just tell me where the papers are, and i’ll leave you alone.” the man croons, stepping closer to the table.

Gavin drags the back of his left hand over his eyes, wiping blood away and smearing it along his temple into his hair, his other hand with the knife shaking badly, “fuck off, you utter tosspot! I didn't take shit!”

“Damn, Gavin,” the man tuts, “i thought Daniels beat the attitude out of you! Maybe i should pick up where he left off.” he begins to walk forwards calmly before suddenly stomping towards Gavin and tipping the dining table over; he reaches out for Gavin.

Gavin yelps out with wide eyes and swings the knife wildly, catching the man’s arms and cutting deep into the toned flesh. The man reels back with a shout, and Gavin takes this as his chance. He sprints past the man and through the hallways, stumbling slightly and leaving a smeared handprint on the wall before slamming the bathroom door behind himself and locking it.

“Free, you little cunt!” the man follows him quickly, banging on the door, “i was gonna be nice, but now i gotta kill your skanky ass!”

Gavin fumbles with his phone slightly, eyes wide, before managing to bring up his contacts. It takes less than a second for him to decide who to call.

The phone rings a few times before eventually picking up,  _ “mhm… Gavin? It’s too fuckin’ early…” _ his voice is groggy with sleep, Gavin idly realises it’s nearly four in the morning.

“Geoff!” his name comes out in a near-sob, “Geoff, oh fuck, please, i need your help, oh fuck--”

_ “Gavin? Holy shit, okay, where are you?” _

“My apartment, the guy from the job, he followed me home a-and he broke in and i don't know what to  _ do _ \--”

_ “Breathe, dude, i'm on my way. I’ll bring michael, too, okay? I know you’re sweet on him, we’re gonna be there real soon. Just calm down and stay safe.” _

“Thank you, geoff, oh fuck, thank you so much…” the man begins to bang on the door again with a loud shout, causing him to let out a shaky yell of fear. Geoff hangs up quickly after that.

Gavin sets himself back up in the bathtub, holding the knife out and bringing his knees tight against his chest.

\--

When geoff and michael arrive, things start looking up. The man is shouting at them, now, demanding the files and threatening them with the idea of his fellow gang members coming for them. His shouting is quickly extinguished by two bullets, the gunshots echoing in Gavin’s ears.

“Gav?” michael shouts, his feet stomping through the apartment, “it’s safe, you can come out!”

Gavin makes a relieved noise, jumping out of the bath and fumbling with the lock on the bathroom door. He swings it open and throws himself at the first body he sees.

Michael catches him quickly, eyes big under his glasses, “woah, woah, hey…” Gavin hides his face for a few moments, shaking heavily, before composing himself and stepping away, the knife still clutched tight in one of his hands.

“Thank you, love…” he smiles weak, looking up and over at Geoff when he rounds the corner too. Gavin wipes lazily at the blood on his face, some of it dried but a lot of the blood still damp and sticky. 

Geoff walks over quickly with a frown, Gavin can't help but flinch slightly when he reaches out, but he schools his features into a neutral expression, ignoring the pitiful look he receives, “Gav, you’re lookin’ pretty rough, buddy…” he gently pries the knife from Gavin’s hands, uncurling his fingers from their vice grip.

“I’m alright now, love,” Gavin smiles weak at him, then looks to them both, “sorry for waking you up, i should have handled it myself.”

“No, dude,” Michael squeezes his shoulder, “it’s fuckin’ fine, c’mere,” Gavin sucks in a breath when he’s hugged tightly, eyes wide, before slowly reciprocating, “we’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” Michael pulls away and tugs his hoodie over Gavin’s head, looking over to Geoff, “yours or mine?”

“Mine,” geoff decides, “Jack’s gonna meet us there, too. He's just finishing with the club now.”

Gavin stays quiet after that. He’s pliant, too; he leans into michael and follows wherever he leads him, and he’s grateful when geoff bodily blocks the view into the living room where, Gavin assumes, the body is.

They get into a subtle car, a type Gavin can't really picture Geoff owning, if he's honest, and Michael curls up on the back seat with him. Geoff leaves the radio off, driving fast but careful through the streets into the better parts of Los Santos. They’re at an apartment building within half an hour, all mirrored windows and towering heights, Gavin can't imagine Geoff living anywhere else.

Geoff leads them into an elevator, the receptionist giving them a strange look as they pass, and presses the button for the top floor. Michael has his arm looped around Gavin protectively, and the brit feels pretty safe between the two of them.  

Geoff  walks down the hall with them both, shooting worried glances at Gavin and occasionally brushing the back of their hands together. He barely has his key for the door out when Jack swings it open, getting a good look at the three of them. There’s a splatter of blood on Geoff’s arm from the other man, and there's a few smears on Michael from where Gavin’s been leaning on him.

“Oh, Lord…” he sighs, and Gavin can't help but laugh, albeit a little hysterical.

\--

Gavin’s finally working again. Geoff and Jack had temporarily banned him from the club, cleaning up his apartment and leaving him in their penthouse with Michael as a guard dog. 

He walks the floor carefully, bruises covered up with makeup and lowlighting in the club, the gash on his head has little butterfly bandages on it, some makeup around the edges hiding the redness.

The club is beginning to empty, the day beginning to reach the early hours of the morning, and Gavin decides to take a little break. He’s sat at the bar, legs kicking idly as he sips his water, when Vagabond sits next to him.

At first, Gavin’s nervous. After what happened a little less than a week ago, he's more than wary around most people again. He sets his glass down and turns to look at him, and comes face to face with a concerned expression.

Vagabond reaches out gently and touches along Gavin’s cheek, fingers brushing the tender skin along his temple before trailing up to the butterfly bandages, “who hurt you?”

“No one, love,” Gavin sighs, reaching up and grasping Vagabond’s wrist, “no one that’s still alive, anyway.” he smiles a little ruefully, tilting his head away from the gentle touches.

“Good,” Vagabond seems to hesitate before taking his hand away, brushing along Gavin’s arm, “i'm glad you’re okay, beautiful. I…” he chews his lip, “I was worried when you didn't show up for the past couple weeks, thought something bad, or worse, i guess, had happened…”

Gavin frowns and sighs softly, standing up slow and pressing their foreheads together. He slowly brings his hands up, holding the Vagabond’s face in a rather tender move, “you can't get rid of me that easy, V, don't worry…”

\--

Gavin’s bouncing in  _ the _ Vagabond’s lap - or is it Ryan, now? - with his head tilted back and his jaw slack; Ryan’s hands are on his hips, gripping tight but not hard enough to bruise, and he’s watching Gavin closely, occasionally rocking his own hips up into him.

He gasps, reaching a hand down to his own cock and whining out when it’s slapped away, “love, m’close, please…”

Ryan tilts his head and smirks, slowly wrapping his fingers around his cock and forming a tight fist as he chuckles softly, “there you go, doll, make a nice mess for me, yeah?”

Gavin gasps and speeds up, rocking his hips between Ryan’s hand and his dick, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head. He lets out a shaky gasp when a flood of warmth fills him, and he can't help but let go after that, back arching and eyes rolling.

Gavin stays like that for a while before he carefully rolls off of Ryan with a shaky pant, eyes wide as he stares up at the ceiling and carefully goes through the aftershocks of his orgasm, toes curling and muscles in his legs twitching. He slowly closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh, shifting closer to Ryan and laying his head on his chest, “that was probably the best lay of my life, love…” he traces shapes in his chest, eyes lidded.

Ryan chuckles softly, taking a lighter from his bedside table and placing a cigarette between his own lips, lighting it carefully, “wow, what an ego boost. Thanks.”

Gavin laughs out dopily, cuddling a little closer and basking in the warmth of Ryan’s body, “you’re very welcome…” they're quiet, after that. Ryan smokes his cigarettes, and Gavin relaxes in his arms, heart rate slowing and sweat cooling on his skin. 

“Hey,” gavin starts, looking up at Ryan, “you looking for a job?”

“Maybe, depends on the employer.”

“Geoff Ramsey.”

Ryan hums, twirling strands of Gavin’s hair in his fingers, “do you work with him?”

“In a way, i guess,” gavin turns over, crossing his arms on Ryan’s chest and resting his chin on his hands, “only in the club, really. Nothing too illicit.”

“I’ll work in the club, then,” he turns over and faces him, gavin raises his brows, “i don't want people hurting you.”

Gavin raises his brows and laughs, “I’m fine, love, i'm used to it.”

“And you shouldn't be,” Ryan gently brushes his thumb along Gavin’s bottom lip, then cups his jaw, “I wanna protect you, i don't want those sleazes thinking they can do what they want with you.”

“Rye, love…” Gavin sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. He slowly shuffles closer and presses a soft kiss to Ryan’s chin, then the corner of his mouth, “you’re too sweet.”

\--

The seasons are starting to change again, the frosts slowly coming less and less. It’s wet and dreary outside, a storm raging, wind buffeting the windows and hail pouring down in droves. 

They’re all sat on the main floor, sharing a booth and a few beers. Gavin’s on the edge of the booth, rings on his fingers clicking against the neck of the bottle and nails tracing the rim. Michael’s sat next to him, laughing about something Geoff’s said. Geoff is in the middle, in all his KingPin glory with his messy suit and wrinkled shirts, and Jack’s next to him, watching him with a fond smile. Ryan’s on the other edge, listening and watching quietly.

It’s comfortable, a mixed up family coming together.

Gavin finishes his beer and sits back carefully, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s back in his civvies now, after a day in his usual skimpy uniform, and it’s nice to hang out with people instead of going home alone to an apartment he doesn't feel safe in anymore. 

“Dude, how do you even keep the romance alive when you're a criminal?” Michael grins bright, slamming his beer down, “do you send each other fingers whenever you decide to kill someone in the name of love?”

“I feel like fingers would be interchangeable with dicks in that context,” Ryan hums, tapping the pull ring on his can of coke. Geoff and Jack laugh loud and booming, smiling big at each other.

“Maybe back in Austin it happened a few times,” Geoff smirks, sending a wayward glance at jack, “a few death threats and you really find the romance in them after a while.”

“Yeah, how romantic,” Jack drawls, “I love receiving the fingers of my enemies, really puts me in the mood.”   


“It’s a sign of my affection! Love me!” 

“I do, but i hate cleaning bloodstains from our mailbox,” jack grins big at him, “please stop leaving them in there.”   


“Whatever, man, i remember when you loved getting a finger from me.”

“Please think before you speak,” Michael complains, covering his face, “oh my god. My child-like ears.”

“Michael, foreplay is still romantic, michael,” Gavin pipes up, grinning small and teasing, “don't bash their sex life.”

“You’re so right, Gav,” Geoff grins, “i'm glad i have a sex addict to explain the ins and outs of sex and romance - mostly the ins.”

Gavin laughs, “go fuck yourself, Geoffrey.”

“You first,  _ love _ .”

\--

“You’re new here,” Gavin smiles sweet, “it’s not often we get new people in Los Santos.”

The man smiles, running a hand across the top of his head (he seems to pull a face when he realises, in fact, there isn't any hair there. Gavin decides it must be a new thing for the man), “is it that obvious?”

“A little,” Gavin sits down carefully, tilting his head, “but i know everyone, its easy to pick a new face from all the old ones,” he reaches across and touches along the man’s jaw gently, “and you have a very nice face.”

The man flushes bright red, widening his eyes, “o-oh, wow, uh, thanks..?”

“No worries, love. My name’s gavin,” he holds out a hand, smiling sweet, “you?”

He shakes Gavin’s hand, “Jeremy.”

“Nice name,” gavin winks, grinning with his tongue between his teeth, “I’ll be thinking of you, Jeremy.”

\--

Gavin walks to the VIP rooms with a soft sigh, nodding to jack as he passes before slipping into the first room on the left, “sorry I’m late, love,” Gavin pulls off his robe, hanging it on the back of the door, “it’s quite hectic out there, i barely managed to get through the crowds.”

“N-no worries…”

“Oh!” gavin turns around, smiling bright and fond, “Lil’ J! Its lovely to see you again.”

“You too…” he shifts on the booth he's sat in, face scrunched slightly with nerves.

Gavin walks over slow, crooning soft and humming, “you look so shy, love,” he kneels on the booth next to him, “you’re like a little bunny…” he slowly slides a hand up along Jeremy’s inner thigh, then gasping and widening his eyes, “ _ big _ bunny!”

Jeremy coughs sheepishly and looks away, blushing more, “i-i, uh, i actually just wanted to talk to you.”

Gavin raises a brow and frowns softly, sitting back slow, voice obviously skeptical, “about what?”

“A job. With, uh, with ramsey.”

Gavin frowns heavy and sits up, then standing slow and walking over to the little bar area, “and you decided to talk to me about it because..?”

“I know you’re his…” Jeremy screws his face up, “friend. Messenger.”

“Geoff likes to find his crew members, they don't seek him out,” Gavin takes a glass from the cupboard, there’s a crack down one side and something stuck on the bottom, he pours himself a drink, “and, no offense, but you don't really seem like the type that would work for Ramsey.”

“I can brawl-”

“You did in Boston, i know. Monster Truck.”

“-and i'm a good shot with a sniper. Let me prove it to him, to you.” Jeremy’s basically pleading now, and Gavin can't help but feel a little bad. He walks over with the glass and presses it into the smaller man’s hands, sighing out tiredly.

“I suppose I could talk to him, but you shouldn't pull something like this again. Get going.”

“I mean…” Jeremy tilts his head a little, “I can't get what I paid for?”

Gavin smirks, “alright, love. It’s only fair.”

\--

Gavin starts to notice things a lot more after that.

He’s used to looks being thrown at him, it comes with the job of being a stripper. He's used to the looks and those gross, predatory sneers that are directed at him. But he's not used to the fond looks.

Ryan will smile all sweet and kind at him, put a teacup on his dressing table before he goes on stage with something herbal and lovely in it, or he’ll offer the limited help he can in researching people and, of course, the local banks.

Michael is a little more crude; he likes to touch along Gavin’s shoulders and his back and he  _ honestly  _ doesn't mind but, as their friendship develops, he begins to ask for permission. The group will be hanging out in their usual booth after closing hours and Michael, all sweet and coy and completely unlike himself, will ask  _ can I put my arm around you? Can i hug you? Wanna sit in my lap? _ It’s probably less innocent in hindsight, the mighty  _ Mogar _ claiming his territory from anyone that isn't family.

Jeremy is very shy; he doesn't like to be in the way or touch Gavin without permission, or seemingly at all. He’s skittish around Gavin and, when questioned about it, he clams up quickly. But Gavin, being Gavin, manages to pry it out of him.  _ I wasn't sure if you liked being handled like that all the time, _ he says, all crimson and shy,  _ you’re pretty, and I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or unhappy. _ Gavin finds it cute and doesn't hesitate to cuddle up to him every moment he can.

Geoff and Jack, they're a singular body. They both share a look, knowing and curious, before looking back at Gavin with something akin to care and a strange tenderness. They’ve been giving him more time off, they send someone on his jobs with him (probably to avoid the last mishap happening again, Gavin always thinks), and they like to talk with him. They ask about his past and they seem to cherish the few things he tells them. He mentions the old pastries he’d buy on his way home from school to cheer himself up, and the next day there’s a box of them on his dressing table. 

But it’s not  _ just _ him getting these looks.

Ryan likes to listen to Jack’s stories, laughs and smiles so handsome and always offers a shoulder for them to get as close to crying as they’ll allow themselves. He makes sure everyone gets home safe and offers lifts to the club every morning. Michael looks up to Geoff like a child to a celebrity, idolises him and his views and his goals for this shithole city. He teams up with Jeremy and they’re unstoppable, two pairs of fists and one singular hivemind. Geoff loves them all like they're his kids, they're a fucked up family, and Jack doesn't hesitate to give life and limb for them all no matter what.

Gavin catches himself feeling  _ things _ towards the five of them; he laughs about things they said hours ago when he’s alone at home, he finds himself thinking about sleeping next to one of them, misses their smell and the way they treat him. He misses the respect they give him, especially when he’s working in the VIP rooms or being cat called on stage. He finds himself  _ loving _ having them around, he invites them over (or invites himself over, there’s not much difference) and he spends time with them and he’s… happy.

Similarly to the beginning, he keeps this information to himself.


End file.
